


When I Close My Eyes, All the Stars Align

by FallingLikeThis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Beauty and the Beast AU, Cook Niall, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Personal Trainer Liam, Rich Harry, Slow Build, maid louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 17:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4714013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingLikeThis/pseuds/FallingLikeThis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Harry Styles looks out the windowed wall of his penthouse apartment, staring down at the teeming masses that bring life to the streets below. Any one of the people down there could be his soulmate. Or, who knows, his soulmate could be halfway around the world. Or dead already. There’s no way to know, really, since Harry’s affliction is so rare. He bears the soulmate mark. It occurs in maybe one in a million people. He’s one of the chosen few who has one, single person that’s meant for them. Everyone else has the freewill to love whoever they want but if Harry ever hopes to find true love, he’ll have to go through a damn scavenger hunt to get it. And as if that wasn’t enough, he has a time limit.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Or a Beauty and the Beast Au in which Harry's only beastly qualities are his hair and his bad attitude and Niall arrives to spy on him for his sister but ends up staying for so much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Close My Eyes, All the Stars Align

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TrashTalkingTozier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashTalkingTozier/gifts).



> To my prompter,  
> I loved your prompts but this one called out to me the loudest. I hope it lives up to your expectations.
> 
> Thank you to H for the beta, you were a lifesaver when I was drowning.
> 
> Title is from "Once In A Lifetime" by One Direction.

 

Harry Styles looks out the windowed wall of his penthouse apartment, staring down at the teeming masses that bring life to the streets below. Any one of the people down there could be his soulmate. Or, who knows, his soulmate could be halfway around the world. Or dead already. There’s no way to know, really, since Harry’s affliction is so rare. He bears the soulmate mark. It occurs in maybe one in a million people. He’s one of the chosen few who has _one_ , single person that’s meant for them. Everyone else has the freewill to love whoever they want but if Harry ever hopes to find true love, he’ll have to go through a damn scavenger hunt to get it. And as if that wasn’t enough, he has a time limit.

The mark, a rose tattooed across his wrist, burns as four more petals fade away and Harry blinks down at it, unbothered on the surface. He’ll never voice how it makes him feel deep down, how scared he is of ending up alone forever. He’s only twenty-three and he’s got maybe a year left to search, if he’s lucky. His gaze travels to the people far below his window one last time before he steps away and goes to ready himself for bed. _Who gives a fuck about love_? Harry doesn’t need it, he thinks as he curls up in his too big bed.

But somewhere deep down, he knows he’s just giving up. Because he’s already been down that road more times than he can count, the one filled with hope and the willingness to keep trying. And he’s sick of being let down.

 

@}------

 

_Harry,_

_Missing you loads while I run TwistCorp over here on the other side of the pond. How are you, baby bro? Please tell me that you’re living it up in America. Parties every night, dating an abundance of boys and girls, lots of non-platonic kissing. Well, okay, I don’t want the details on that. I just worry about you, Harry. I know things have been difficult for you since Mom and Dad died. And even worse, since Heather left (I told you she wasn’t good enough for you). I wish that I could be there but work is just too hectic to get away for more than a day or two. I really hope that you are doing well, baby brother. Tell me everything._

_Love, Gemma_

Harry stares at the email on his computer screen with his trademark scowl marring his features. He loves his sister, he really does, but it would be nice if Gemma would stop worrying about him so much. Since the death of their parents, she’s been like a very nosey mother hen, and it’s only gotten worse since Harry’s last breakup. He had been devastated when Heather dumped him, claiming Harry wanted something far more serious than she was looking for. Harry had been certain that he had finally found his soulmate. Turns out what Heather was looking for was his wallet and no strings.  Still, that was nearly a year and a half ago, Harry’s gotten over it now (mostly). He’s told Gemma time and again, he’s fine.

He hits reply on the email and types it out one more time, for posterity.

 

_I’m fine._

 

He should really write more. Ask how it’s going in London, how Gemma’s doing running the most important company in all of Europe since inheriting it three years ago.  Or he could tell her about the people in his life, and he _does_ have some, _thank you very much, Gemma_. He gets on quite well with that guy, Lewis, whom the cleaning service Harry’s just hired sends over four days a week. And Liam, his new personal trainer, is perfectly nice. He should tell Gemma about them, and the new music studio he’s working on in the refurbished apartment below that he just bought a few months ago. But he doesn’t. He’s just so done with her meddling that he decides quite spur of the moment to provide absolutely no details to feed her curiosity about his life, out of spite. He doesn’t even sign off, not so much as a _love, Harry_. Just “I’m fine” in an otherwise blank email.

He hits send before his conscience can kick in, because he knows it will, and then he’ll end up sharing everything about how he misses her terribly and how lonely he is. And that just, well, it just can’t happen.

So, really, Harry only has himself to blame for the blonde Irishman that shows up at his door two days later claiming that Gemma sent him.

“I’m sorry, I was distracted by fantasies of murdering my sister, what exactly did you say she hired you for?” Harry deadpans.

“No worries, mate. I have an older brother, I know how it is,” the Irishman chuckles. “I’m Niall, the new live-in cook.”

“I think you mispronounced ‘babysitter’,” Harry says wryly, wholly unimpressed with his sisters attempts to spy on him, or maybe just make him socialize. He’s _fine._ He’s got Lewis and Liam.

“Eh,” Niall hums, smile never far from his lips. “I’ve heard it both ways.”

“Oh, a smart arse. We’ll get along swimmingly,” Harry mutters sarcastically, while nevertheless opening the door wider to allow the Irishman in. If he doesn’t, he’ll just find another ‘live-in cook’, or something equally ridiculous, at his doorstep tomorrow. Or maybe he’d even find Niall again, depending on how desperate the lad is.

Harry supposes he can give in on this one. At least he gets a cook out of the deal.  Well, he’ll make a final decision _after_ he tests out the Irishman’s talent in the kitchen.

 

@}------

 

“So, how long have you been a cook?” Harry asks, leading Niall to one of his guest rooms. He’s not heartless. He’ll let the lad stay the night, at least.

“All m’life, really,” Niall answers, obviously distracted as he takes in his surroundings. “But only professionally for the last year or so.”

“Hmm,” Harry hums in acknowledgement, opening the door to Niall’s (most likely, temporary) room. “And how long have you been a babysitter?”

Niall chuckles, walking over, dropping his bag on the bed, and turning to face Harry with a smirk. “All m’life, really…

“But only professionally for the last year or so,” Harry joins in, seeing immediately where Niall was going with his response.

“So, who was your last charge?” Harry asks, as Niall bounces down next to his bag, seemingly testing out the springs on his new mattress.

“Zayn Malik,” Niall says like Harry is supposed to know who that is. “He was that singer that went blind. Went into a very public strop about it.”

That sounds vaguely familiar and Harry searches his memory but can’t seem to recall what the singer looks like. He just shrugs at Niall who takes it in stride, waving away Harry’s ignorance before carrying on.

“Anyway, he started lashing out at everyone close to him. Lost perspective, no pun intended, of all the good things he still had in his life, and eventually cut himself off from all the people who cared about him. His family got worried about him spending all his time alone, or with people who didn’t care for his best interest. I was a friend of the family, so he knew me, and I had just finished at culinary school so they sent me to cook for ‘im. And maybe look after ‘im a little.”

“And let me guess,” Harry says, leaning against the door frame of the guest room, arms crossed defensively, “you fixed him.”

“He didn’t need fixing,” Niall answers with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “He just needed to be reminded that the world is no less awesome just because you suddenly can’t see it. There are lots of other ways to experience its beauty.”

“Is that what you’re supposed to do for me? Remind me of how incredible the world is?” Harry sneers at the mere thought. _Fuck that_. Harry doesn’t need another busybody trying to force him to interact with more shitty people with shitty intentions who will inevitably leave him feeling generally shitty.

“Don’t know,” Niall tells him, shrugging again. “Is that what you need?”

“I don’t need anything,” Harry answers, ice in his tone and steel in his eyes. “I’m _fine_.”

He walks out of the guestroom without another word, leaving Niall to stare thoughtfully after.

“You _need_ to calm the fuck down,” Niall murmurs at the ghost of Harry’s presence, before turning to unpack his things.

 

@}------

 

“What the hell, Gemma?” Harry says as soon as his sister answers her phone.

“Harry, it’s so nice to hear from you,” Gemma trills sarcastically.

“Are there any more strangers you want to send to my home? Maybe an axe murderer or two?”

“He’s not an axe murderer,” Gemma argues but then pauses musing, “Or wait. Did I get those numbers mixed up? No. No, you got the cook. I’m 98% sure of it.”

“This isn’t funny,” Harry pouts. “I told you I was fine—”

“Yeah, that’s _all_ you told me and excuse me for being worried about the only family I have left but I _love you_ , you big freaking pain in my arse, and I need to _know_ that you are actually okay and not just telling me what I want to hear,” Gemma railroads him. She takes a deep breath before carrying on. “Look, just give Niall a shot, please, for me?”

Harry sighs, closing his eyes and shaking his head at himself and how easily he gives in to his sister. “Fine. But he better make the best food I’ve ever had or he’s out the door.”

“Agreed,” Gemma approves a little too easily.

Harry huffs a scornful laugh. “You’re just going to send someone else if I get rid of him, aren’t you?”

“You know me so well,” she laughs fondly.

“I’ll give him a shot,” Harry promises, not sure if he’s hoping Niall works out or not.

“Thanks, baby bro,” Gemma returns sincerely. There’s muffled speech on her side of the line and then she’s speaking to Harry once more. “Shit, I gotta run.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Harry tells her, even though there’s a bone-deep ache at the thought of saying goodbye. He’ll only miss her more after hearing her voice.

“Love you. Don’t be a stranger!”

“Love you, too.”

He holds the phone to his ear long after the eerie silence of a lost call takes over the speaker, finally dropping his hand when he hears footsteps crossing the flat to his kitchen. Well, he’d best go put his new cook to work. A promise is a promise after all.

 

@}------

 

“MMmm,” Harry moans involuntarily at the taste on his tongue.

Damn it. Niall is actually a phenomenal cook. Harry guesses he’ll have to let him stay.

Niall laughs at Harry’s reaction from where he watches leaning back against the counter across from the dining table, cup of tea in his hand. “Good, innit?”

Harry glares even as he takes another bite of the beef enchiladas on his plate. The glare draws another laugh from Niall, it’s almost like he finds annoying Harry entertaining. Harry has a grudging respect for the way Niall doesn’t let negativity bother him. Harry’s been nothing but disdainful since Niall arrived, and yet here he is, still wearing a glowing smile on his face. Harry can admit to himself that he’s the slightest bit envious of that attitude. Maybe if he were more like Niall, things would be easier for him. But then he remembers, he _used_ to be just like Niall, and all it got him was beaten down until he was just like all of the cynical arseholes he’d let get to him in the first place. He wonders how Niall’s survived so long without being corrupted.

“Congratulations,” Harry says, a few minutes later, as he scrapes his plate clean. “You passed your audition.”

“Oh?” Niall asks with a smirk like he knows something Harry doesn’t. It’s incredibly irksome. Harry hates feeling unsure of himself. “I wasn’t aware it was an audition.”

“You think I would keep you on if you couldn’t do your job well, just because my sister said so?” Harry returns, brow raised in disbelief as he lifts his dirty dishes from the table and moves past Niall to put them in the sink.

“Yeah, I do,” Niall challenges but somehow manages to make it sound like it’s not a challenge. It almost sounds like… Harry’s sure he must be crazy, but it almost sounds like a _compliment_ , the way Niall’s voice softens when he says it.

Harry turns to look at the boy now standing right next to him, sure there’s going to be another smirk on his stupid face, or a spark in his eyes that belies his real intentions. He finds nothing that he expects, just a friendly smile and eyes that seem to see him as something better than he is.  He’s done nothing to deserve that look and it both worries and angers him that Niall would give it away so easily.

“Well, I wouldn’t,” Harry lies, turning away so that Niall won’t see the deception on his face. “You’ve earned your place here.”

Harry goes to exit the kitchen but turns back at the last second, compelled against all his better judgement to give Niall something nice after being a prick to him all afternoon.

“I’m not an easy man to please,” Harry says, not looking at Niall as he speaks. “You should consider it a compliment.”

Niall watches, a bit dumbfounded, as Harry stalks out of the kitchen, leaving him alone. Again.

“Maybe I would if you could stand to be in the same room with me,” Niall mutters into his cup as he raises it to his lips again. He’s certainly got his work cut out for him. He drains his tea and puts the cup down in the sink, pushing up his sleeves and turning on the water to begin washing the dishes.

 

@}------

 

A week later and it’s starting to sink in to Niall that befriending Harry Styles is not going to be an easy task. The man seems determined to take everything Niall says as a challenge, eyes going steely and mouth pulling taut with disapproval. He can’t even stay in the same room with Niall for very long, always eating his meals in silence rather than companionable conversation and leaving as soon as he’s done. He cuts himself off from everyone and he’s got the most impenetrable walls that Niall has ever encountered. It makes Niall wonder what happened to make Harry distrust people so completely. He waits until they’re eating again, sitting across from each other at the dining table, before he tries to broach the subject.

“Do you ever leave this building?” Niall wonders aloud, trying to ease into the topic of Harry’s lack of social interactions.

Harry glances up at him for half a second before letting his eyes fall back to his food. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, on occasion, I do.”

“Where do you go?”

“You want me to make you a map?” Harry bites out.

“I mean, don’t go out of your way or anything,” Niall reciprocates. Harry wants sarcasm, Niall can give him sarcasm.

“I go where I need to,” Harry says, voice hardening and Niall thinks that’s probably meant to suggest an end to the conversation. Niall has never really been good at taking suggestions to heart though.

“Do you go out with friends?”

Harry sighs in annoyance and puts his fork down with a clatter. “No. I don’t. It’s a waste of time. _Friends_ are a waste of time. I work and I rest and that’s all I need.”

Niall stares at Harry in silence. He knew that Harry was a miserable bastard but he didn’t realize just how deep the well of his loneliness went.

“You don’t have _any_ friends?” Niall finally blurts out. He expected that Harry didn’t have _many_ friends but no friends at all? That’s more pitiful than Niall had imagined.

Harry looks like he’s having a hard time staying calm in the face of Niall’s blunt intrusion into his personal life. Or lack thereof. He’s visibly holding himself back from having some kind of fitful outburst. Forcing himself to remain calm, he places his hands flat on the table and keeps his eyes trained away from Niall’s face as he speaks.

“Look, I know that you’re here to spy on me for my sister, and as much as it pains me to be reminded, I _agreed_ to let you stay. For her sake. But I don’t need your therapy or whatever you’re trying to do right now. And I definitely don’t need your pity. So, report what you have to back to Gemma but otherwise, do the job that I hired you for and stay out of my way.”

Harry’s dishes clatter together as he stacks them carelessly when he stands from the table and he all but throws them into the sink before striding quickly out of the room, for once, leaving behind a speechless Niall.

“Is it safe to come in now?” A head of fluffy brown hair pokes into the kitchen from the opposite doorway.

“Yeah,” Niall answers with a shrug. “The beast has left the building.”

“Don’t know about that,” Niall’s new company says as he walks in with a basket of cleaning supplies. “He rarely leaves the building but just the room is good enough for me.”

“What do you mean?” Niall asks confused. “He goes out to work every day, doesn’t he?”

Laughter rings out of the other man’s mouth. “No way. He works from home on his computer. When he disappears every day, he’s probably going downstairs to make sure the work on the remodel is getting finished to his liking. “

“Downstairs?” Niall questions, finally getting up from the table where he’s been sitting, doing nothing, since Harry left him dumbfounded.

“He bought the floor below a while back, he’s converting it into something but he hasn’t told me or Liam what it is. If I’m honest, I haven’t really given him the chance even if he wanted to. One of these days, I’m going to lose it when he calls me ‘Lewis’ so I’m trying to avoid trouble for as long as possible.”

“Louis, why don’t you just correct him?” Niall laughs as he starts the dishes while Louis wipes down the counter tops.

“I tried! The first half-dozen times. And Liam has once or twice but he always walks away too fast or interrupts. And now, every time Harry sees me it’s ‘Hello, Lewis’ or ‘you missed a spot there, Lewis’. I swear, he’s lucky he doesn’t have my hand prints round his neck at this point,” Louis grumbles as he scrubs at an imaginary stain on the counter.

“Lou, he can’t know if you don’t tell him.”

Niall is still laughing at him, and Louis throws his dirty rag at Niall’s face in retaliation. Niall catches it easily and throws it back, hitting Louis square in the chest. Louis squawks in indignation and stalks closer, he’ll have his vengeance before the night is through.

 

@}------

 

The echo of loud, playful laughter coming from the kitchen cuts into Harry’s concentration as he sits at his desktop computer in his office. The sound taunts him, reminding him of what he doesn’t have. Will never have if he keeps himself locked away like this. He could shut the door, block out the noise and get back to work, but as much as it hurts him to hear it, it’s also a comfort. Having it so nearby, it’s almost as good as having it himself. Well, not _almost as good_ but it’s better than nothing. It’s better than bitter silence.

Pushing aside his work, Harry closes his eyes and imagines himself in that kitchen, laughing this time instead of storming out angrily. Smiling for the first time in ages. Feeling lighter than he has in years. Try as he might, he can’t see himself there, not who he is now. But his younger self, idealistic and wholesome, he fits in quite nicely.

After a few minutes Harry can’t do it anymore, it hurts more than helps, and he stands from his chair and crosses the room to finally close the door. When he makes it back to his chair, he knows what he needs but he doesn’t want to give in to the sudden urge to call Gemma. Calling out of nowhere will only worry her more. He shakes the sullen thoughts from his head and gets back to work, tapping out messages to people he’ll never meet.

In the end, just before he goes to bed and too weak with need to ignore it anymore, he gives in and calls his sister. Even though they only talk for a few minutes before she’s got to go in to work, her voice soothes something in him that he can’t name. It comes back full force when they hang up, but he’s grateful to have had a few moments of relief.

He sleeps and he doesn’t dream.

 

@}------

 

Giving one last look at his almost completed music studio, Harry flicks off the light and closes the door behind him as he heads back to his apartment. It’s been a rough week and it’s a relief to have the studio almost finished. It feels like his solace, the one place where he doesn’t have to worry about people judging him or worrying about him. He doesn’t have to worry about friends or soulmates there. Love and passion abound without them, because music is where Harry’s heart has always been. It’d be nice to have someone to listen, to believe in him. He’s never had that before. But it’s not absolutely necessary. He can live in his studio if he chooses and he’ll never want for anything else.  It’s a peaceful feeling, freeing. And it makes Harry not so scared of the future.

When he gets back upstairs, Niall is on the couch watching television. As always seems to be the case, there’s laughter falling from his lips. He looks over to Harry when he walks in, and his smile doesn’t fade at the sight of him. It makes Harry want to stick around, soak in the serenity that Niall seems to carry with him wherever he goes.

He sits down on the opposite end of the couch, an unsaid truce stretched hesitantly between them.

Niall’s smile quirks up a little higher at Harry joining him rather than walking past and ignoring him as usual. He doesn’t want to break the silence for fear of giving Harry an excuse to run away again but he’s also afraid that if he doesn’t acknowledge the other man somehow, he might think he’s not wanted and go back to pretending Niall doesn’t exist outside of the kitchen.

“You okay with what’s on?” Niall asks offering the remote control with a shrug. “I’m flexible.”

“Didn’t need to know that,” Harry says taking the remote, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“He makes jokes!” Niall grins. It seems almost easy right now and Niall hopes that this easy playfulness between them can last.

Harry says nothing, shaking his head as he searches for something else for them to watch on Netflix, but his eyes shine with a light that Niall hasn’t seen before. It’s a good look for him, Niall thinks.

“How’s this?” Harry asks, stopping on _Graceland_.

“It’s good for me,” Niall answers, getting comfortable again.

After the first episode, a silent but not unpleasant hour, he gets up to make them supper.

Harry looks up when Niall rises, eyes curious as he watches Niall walk around the arm of the couch.

“What are you doing?” He asks as though he’s forgotten that they aren’t just hanging out, like Niall isn’t the hired help. Niall likes the idea that maybe he’s getting closer to resembling a friend to Harry.

“Making us some food,” Niall answers. “You have a preference?”

“Let’s just have sandwiches or something. There’s no need for something fancy every night,” Harry suggests, getting up to follow Niall to the kitchen.

“Sounds good to me,” Niall agrees.

They make their sandwiches side by side. Niall would have made Harry’s too, or at least offered to, but he doesn’t want to disturb this comfortable kinship they seem to share at the moment. They work in silence, arms brushing every now and again. There’s an electric sort of feeling running over Niall’s skin when they touch but if Harry feels it too, he’s ignoring it, so Niall does the same.

Once their sandwiches are done, Harry grabs them both a drink from the fridge and leads the way back to the living room. Niall warms at the thought that Harry actually seems to _want_ to spend time with him for once and follows without a word.

They sit on the couch, plates on their laps, closer than they were before but not right on top of each other and Harry starts the next episode of their show about undercover agents. They mostly eat in silence, occasionally tossing out a comment about how plausible some situation on the show is.

It _feels_ like friendship, however tentative, and Harry thinks something has shifted between them even as Niall hopes silently beside him that that’s the case. It’s nice. Just spending time with someone. It’s not the same as when Harry’s working out with Liam because then it’s all business. This is just… existing together. _Choosing_ to spend time together because maybe they enjoy each other’s company. Harry hadn’t forgotten what it was like exactly, but he’d certainly forgotten just how good it could feel.

 

@}------

 

It’s doesn’t just automatically become easy. Harry and Niall still have their ups and downs, mostly downs because everything that comes out of Niall’s mouth that verges anywhere near the realm of personal information feels like a challenge to Harry. Maybe it’s because he’s paranoid of being judged. Maybe that’s what makes him certain that he _is_ being judged. Maybe he’s just too sensitive but, more often than not, Harry ends up spitting out his responses to Niall’s attempts at conversation like venom.

“Look,” Niall says holding his hands out like he’s ready to fend off a physical attack. “All I’m saying is that you should go out every now and then. Talk to someone that isn’t me or your personal trainer.”

“I talk to people,” Harry sulks, arms crossed over his chest in his familiar defensive pose. He’s burrowed himself into a corner of the couch, as though he’s trying to get as far away from Niall as possible without having to get up.

“Name two.”

“Lewis and Albert,” Harry answers right away, like he was waiting for this question and had the answer waiting on the tip of his tongue.

“Ok, first of all, people who work for you don’t count,” Niall tells him, trying to bite back a laugh. “And second, your house cleaner is not ‘Lewis’. His name is Louis.”

“No, it’s not,” Harry huffs with righteous indignation. “If I’d been calling him the wrong name all this time, I think he would have told me.”

“He’s tried,” Niall informs him. “You don’t listen.”

Harry doesn’t answer Niall’s accusation. Not because Niall is right, but in all honesty, he _may_ be right. Harry’s gotten so used to being by himself, relying on himself, it’s possible he’s forgotten what it’s like having to give someone else the chance to speak. Or maybe he’s just afraid he won’t like what they have to say so he doesn’t give them the chance.

“And who’s Albert?” Niall asks after a moment, head tilted like a curious dog.

“M’cntrctr,” Harry mumbles, not wanting to tell him. After all, apparently employees don’t count.

“What?” Niall chuckles because even as he mumbles, Harry’s pout grows.

“My contractor,” Harry repeats more clearly but it's still murmured as if he’s still hoping Niall won’t hear.

“That big fella that always shows up here in the mornings?” Niall asks, trying to place the name.

“Yeah,” Harry answers, bottom lip protruding even more if that’s possible.

Niall freezes when he realizes that he knows who Harry is talking about, and then turns to Harry biting his cheek to keep from bursting out laughing.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Niall implores thought he’s got a feeling that Harry’s not.

Harry’s eyes narrow, scrunched in confusion. “Why would I be joking?”

Niall can’t hold it in anymore; he bursts out laughing. “Harry! His name isn’t Albert. It’s Alberto.”

“What? No.” Harry protests. “Why wouldn’t he tell me? And don’t tell me that he’s tried. I know for a fact that he’s never once even attempted to correct me.”

“That you’ll have to ask him,” Niall says, still chuckling while he pats Harry on the shoulder. It feels a bit patronizing but Harry is sure that it’s well intentioned so he doesn’t take offense.

He sits forward, scrubbing his hands over his face, elbows resting on his knees and finds himself laughing into his hands. When he pulls his hands away from his face, he finds Niall looking at him fondly and Harry is absurdly grateful that Niall doesn’t think he’s a total twat for getting the names of two of his employees, which he speaks to on a regular basis, wrong. And for such a long time too. Harry kind of feels like a twat, as he probably should, and he’s not sure why it’s so important to him that Niall doesn’t share the feeling. Perhaps that’s what friendship is, knowing when someone’s a twat and not making them feel bad for it, at least not when it’s unintentional.

“Hey,” Niall interrupts his thoughts. “Let me take you out this weekend. Introduce you to some people that would never work for you in a million years. And most of them won’t even care if you forget their names.”

Harry shakes his head with an embarrassed grin. “I don’t know, Niall.”

“Please?” Niall pushes gently. “Just this once, and if you absolutely hate it, I’ll never bother you about it again.”

That sounds like a pretty good deal actually. Harry studies Niall, looking for some hidden motive or trick in the shine of his eyes, the curve of his lips. Finding nothing but sincerity, Harry cautiously bites. “Never?”

“Promise,” Niall draws a cross over his heart with a finger.

Harry stares at him a moment longer. When did Niall write his name on the list of people who could make Harry’s previously solid principles crumple like a poorly cooked soufflé?

Harry scoffs at his own lack of a backbone and shrugs. “Fine. _Once_.”

“You say that now,” Niall smirks with another pat to Harry’s shoulder.

Harry already knows he’s made a horrible decision.

 

@}------

 

When Harry asks Alberto about not correcting him when Harry called him the wrong name, Alberto looks him square in the eyes and says, “I don’t care if you call me ‘babycakes’ as long as I get paid”.

Harry barks out an unexpected laugh that draws Niall’s attention from all the way in the kitchen. He pokes his head out just in time to hear Harry’s reply.

“I’ll keep that in mind then… babycakes.”

Alberto shrugs and turns to go to work finishing up the studio but not before giving a brief wink over his shoulder and flexing his bum as he walks out the door.

 

@}------

 

Harry is nervous being out in a crowd. He’s made trips to get things he needs, items that he couldn’t get delivered to his door, but he hasn’t been in any kind of social setting in years. It feels a bit like playing an elaborate game when you aren’t sure you have a grasp of all the rules.

There’s laughter on every side of him, boisterous and joyful, and Harry kind of just feels like crawling into the darkest corner of the pub and hiding until Niall agrees to take him home.

Niall’s friends, Bressie and Jade, are obviously trying to be polite and include Harry in their conversation but Harry nearly winces every time someone says his name. He talks in a slow mumble when they ask him questions and he inevitably ends up having to repeat himself.

Eventually, Niall comes to Harry’s rescue, abandoning whatever conversation he was having with a girl whose name Harry can’t remember. Paris? Perry? He doesn’t know and he’s not confident enough to hazard a guess.

“I’m just going to steal him for a few minutes,” Niall tells Jade and Bressie, pulling Harry away before he can protest. Not that he would. He’s so relieved that he doesn’t notice where Niall is taking him until they’re in the middle of the ‘dancefloor’ surrounded by the only people in the place drunk enough to make fools of themselves this early in the evening.

“Niall, what are you—”

“Relax,” Niall interrupts him, grabbing Harry’s hands and placing them on his hips before putting his own hands on Harry’s shoulders. “Dance with me.”

“I feel like an idiot,” Harry tells him sourly but does as he’s told, following as Niall makes them sway in a rough circle. He’s pretty sure he should be leading but he’s not going to argue right now.

“Harry, just let go,” Niall says, massaging his shoulders a bit as they sway. “You’re thinking too much.”

“I don’t think I can do this,” Harry tells him, hoping that will be enough for Niall to call the night a loss and let Harry beg off early.

“You’re not _trying_ ,” Niall scolds, disappointment ringing in his tone.

Maybe he should just tell Niall what the problem is, why he’s so closed off. Maybe Niall would understand. He opens his mouth, he almost tells him. But then he catches glimpse of _her_ across the room.

Harry cranes his neck trying to see where she is, if only to avoid his ex like the plague.

“What it is?” Niall asks, noticing the way Harry strains to see around the crowd. He turns to look too, wondering what’s captured Harry’s attention.

Eventually Harry realizes that he hasn’t seen Heather. He’s seen a flash of someone who has her hair color but otherwise doesn’t resemble his ex at all. “Nothing,” Harry answers, his attention returning to Niall. “Sorry. I thought I saw someone.”

“It’s okay,” Niall says before sighing. “Look, how about we give it one more try. Maybe get some more alcohol in you to loosen you up? And if you’re still not comfortable, we’ll head home.”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry nods, because that’s a fair compromise. Niall is nothing if not fair.

The added alcohol works wonders for Harry’s confidence. Not so much for his brain-to-mouth filter.

Liam and Louis eventually arrive, which is a bit of a surprise to Harry. They look like a couple, standing so near to each other, whispering and laughing in each other’s ears. Harry scrounges up his courage when he sees them and goes to apologize to Louis for calling him the wrong name for so long.

Louis looks pleased, pleasantly surprised that Harry is so willing to admit when he’s wrong and make amends. He accepts Harry’s apology, ready to bury the hatchet and let go of his resentment for his employer. Until Harry makes a lame joke about how Louis is a French name and maybe he should get Louis a French maid costume to wear when he cleans. Louis smiles tightly at the joke but as soon as Harry’s back is turned, he lunges. Fortunately for Harry, Liam is there to hold Louis back and talk him down.

Harry, oblivious to his brush with death, goes looking for Niall. He feels like dancing but he’s not quite brave enough to ask anyone else, even though his head is fuzzy and he’s got alcohol swimming in his blood. When he can’t find Niall, he shrugs to himself and goes to dance alone.

There’s no telling how much time has passed when Niall finally finds Harry, arms swinging haphazardly as he dances alone on the dancefloor. _Literally_. His dangerously swinging arms scared off everyone else after he managed to accidentally smack a few people. He didn’t even notice.

“Niall,” Harry says warmly as Niall gathers Harry in his arms. He melts into the Irishman’s embrace, reaching up to touch Niall’s hair. It looks so soft and fluffy. Harry giggles with delight when it feels exactly as fluffy as it looks. “You’re so lovely and cuddly.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall says, somehow still managing to be playful when he’s dragging nearly all of Harry’s weight. “I bet you say that to everyone when you’re drunk.”

Harry doesn’t answer, too enthralled with petting Niall’s head.

Niall manages to get them into a cab and back home safely. Getting up to Harry’s apartment is another matter entirely but they somehow manage it.

Niall puts Harry to bed and gets him to drink a little water before he flops back on his pillow, already asleep. Niall, exhausted, considers walking down the hall to his own room but doesn’t really feel up to it. Instead, he crawls into Harry’s bed and collapses onto the empty pillow. He doesn’t think Harry will be in any state to care when morning comes.

 

@}------

 

Harry wakes up curled around Niall. Despite the pounding in his skull and the sandpaper on his tongue, he has enough presence of mind to think it feels nice waking up next to someone again before he rushes to the bathroom to be sick. His loud retching wakes Niall, who’s always been better at holding his liquor than most people. He barely feels any effects from their night out as he gets out of bed and shuffles to the bathroom to keep Harry company while he empties his stomach.

Harry looks up from where he’s leaning over the toilet bowl when he feels hands in his hair. He must look a fright when he hands over his tenuous hold of his curls into Niall’s much more capable hands.

“Thank you,” Harry rasps, throat sore and vulnerable. He thinks he heard a quote once about how true friends will hold your hair while you throw up. It makes the roiling in Harry’s tummy feel slightly less dire.

“Anytime, mate,” Niall says from where he towers over Harry, pressing his knee lightly into Harry’s back. It feels like it’s supposed to be comforting. It kind of is.

When Harry thinks he’s done, Niall lets go of his hair to get him some water to help rinse out his mouth and clear his throat.

“You alright?” He asks as Harry hands the glass back.

“Yeah, I think so,” Harry answers, suddenly feeling embarrassed now that there's nothing to keep his mind occupied.

“Ok, I’m going to go shower. I’ll leave you to it,” Niall’s gaze lingers for a few extra seconds, making sure that Harry isn’t going to need him before he squeezes Harry’s shoulder and turns to leave.

Once he’s gone, Harry turns to his bathroom mirror and groans. He looks like death warmed over and he feels like someone ran over him, reversed, and ran over him again. He takes his time brushing his teeth and then follows Niall’s example and showers. He feels a bit better when he gets out, dressing in some ratty joggers and a comfy jumper and goes to the kitchen to get himself some orange juice. He doesn’t think he’s ready to eat anything but he needs to replenish his fluids.

Niall is in the kitchen when Harry arrives, working on a full English breakfast and changing Harry’s mind about not eating anything. It smells heavenly.

“Thank you for earlier,” Harry says again, briefly pulling Niall’s attention from the stove.

“I told you, it wasn’t a problem,” Niall gives him a smile. “It’s my fault you drank so much, anyway. Holding your hair back is the least I could do.”

Harry nods, feeling his stomach drop. Maybe it wasn’t friendship, maybe it was just a sense of guilt that drove Niall to help him.

As though he can hear Harry’s thoughts, Niall grins at him again.  “Besides, that’s what friends are for, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry answers, giving a half-smile in return.

When their breakfast is done, they carry it to the living room and sit down in front of the coffee table to eat as they watch tv. They veg out together all day, only getting up to run to the toilet or get more food.

When they finally go to their separate rooms for bed, Harry lays in bed thinking for a long time. Maybe Niall was right. Maybe Harry does need more friends. Because this was the best day he’s had in a really long time.

 

@}------

 

They get into a routine. Harry will wake up, have his training session with Liam, get his work done for the day and then check up on his studio. After that, he spends his evenings with Niall, vegging out on the couch and watching television together. They get a lot closer. Close enough that cuddling isn’t off the table. If Niall can tell Harry’s feeling grumpy, which is often, he’ll forgo conversation and just let Harry cuddle into him, running his fingers through strands of soft curls until Harry all but falls asleep on him. He likes it, but he still worries. Harry may lean on Niall a little now, but he still doesn’t talk to Niall about the important things. He’s opened a window to Niall, allowing the boy to get a glimpse of the wonderful person that Harry seems to be, but he’s holding the rest of the world on the other side of a locked steel door. Impenetrable, unless Niall can crawl inside that window and open the door from the inside.

They’re cuddled on the couch, it’s one of Harry’s bad days. There was some kind of trouble with his work but he doesn’t seem to want to talk about it.

Niall is thinking, not paying any attention to the show they are supposed to be watching.

Harry’s hand reaches up to scratch his chin and Niall catches a glimpse of it, the mark that’s caused all of Harry’s troubles.

“Hey,” Niall says quietly, reaching out to run his finders over Harry’s wrist. “What’s this?”

He knows already, Gemma told him everything when she hired him. He doesn’t think Harry would appreciate Niall knowing his business though, so he gives Harry a chance to tell him himself.

Harry doesn’t, pulling his arm in just as Niall’s fingers brush over it, hiding it against his chest. “It’s nothing.”

Niall supposes he should appreciate the fact that even though Harry isn’t in the best of moods, he wasn’t harsh with his dismissal of the subject. Niall wants to let it go but he doesn’t because from what he’s heard, Harry doesn’t have much time left. He needs to find his soulmate soon or he’ll never find them.

“Is that one of those soulmate marks that I’ve heard about?”

“Yes,” Harry huffs but doesn’t elaborate, eyes still on the television screen. “Can we drop it? I don’t really like to talk about it.”

“Why aren’t you looking for them?” This part actually does confuse Niall. One or two bad relationships shouldn’t stop you from looking for the love of your life. Niall knows he wouldn’t stop looking.

“Because it’s impossible,” Harry yells, finally losing his patience. He pulls away from Niall and Niall has to admit that it hurts. “And it isn’t fair.”

“What?” Niall asks incredulous. “It’s not fair getting to know that you have a soulmate out there somewhere while everyone else is left to wonder?”

“You don’t get it,” Harry accuses, arms crossing over his chest. Niall hates it when he does that.

“So, explain it to me,” Niall says, none too gently.

“How is it fair that I have to search the world to find the _one_ person who could make me feel complete, while everyone else gets to just pick someone off the street?” Harry shouts.

Niall scoffs at Harry’s idea of unfair. They don’t see this situation the same way at all. “You also get to live in the knowledge that when you find them, you get your happily ever after. _Guaranteed_. For everyone else, it’s a crap shoot. They may find true love, they may not. When you find your soulmate, you get a guaranteed forever. You’ve gotta know that something that amazing comes at a price.”

Harry grows quiet, contemplative. He’s still flushed, still angry, but it’s lessening as the truth in Niall’s words sinks in.

“I guess, I didn’t really think of it like that,” Harry admits. “I suppose you have an argument for the time limit that comes with it as well.”

Niall breathes out a laugh, glad that Harry’s calmed down from his tantrum relatively easily, that he’s so open to listening to Niall’s thoughts on the subject instead of brushing them away because they conflict with his own. “Nothing good ever comes easy. If you didn’t have a time limit, would you feel as compelled to find them?”

Harry supposes he wouldn’t. He’d feel secure in the knowledge that he had time and miss finding them completely because he was always busy doing other things. “Probably not,” he answers truthfully.

Niall pulls Harry back to his side of the couch so that they can cuddle again, so he can offer comfort. Harry ends up laying down, his head in Niall’s lap with Niall’s fingers running through his hair.

“I’ll help you find them,” Niall offers, looking down at Harry, watching the changing colours from the tv catch on the contours of his face. “If you want.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” Harry says quietly, still not looking back at Niall.

“Harry, you _have_ to be ready. You don’t have much time,” Niall reminds him gently, voice soft with tender affection.

“Niall—” Harry starts to argue but cuts himself off, sighing. He doesn’t know when it happened, but somewhere in the last couple of weeks, Niall has become his best friend. Harry respects his opinion. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Niall doesn’t hide his surprise at Harry’s sudden approval, grin wide at the thought of being able to help his friend.

Harry chuckles at him. “Yeah. You’re right. It’s time.”

Niall all but throws Harry from his lap, jumping up from the couch as he goes to grab Harry’s laptop so that they can start immediately.

They have an online dating profile to set up.

 

@}------

 

Harry may have grumbled the whole way through Niall plugging in Harry’s preferences on the dating site they agreed on, but he never imagined that things would go so horribly wrong.

It’s Harry’s third date since joining the ranks of the ‘single and looking’, and each one has been worse than the last. This one takes the cake though. If Harry were less of a gentleman, he’d be climbing out the bathroom window right about now.

“And this is Kitty Galore,” the date from hell announces, scrolling to the next picture on her phone. It would be fine if she were showing Harry pictures of her pets, 53 pictures _and counting_. It might even be kind of cute. But that isn’t the case, because Peyton Lester who obviously lied on her dating profile (there’s no way she’s actually a 93% match with Harry, he refuses to believe it) is not showing Harry pictures of cuddly kittens, or playful puppies. No, she’s showing him her _figurine_ collection. “And this is Cat Dennings.”

Harry would laugh at that one if he weren’t so miserable, Peyton is clever about naming her figurines, he’ll give her that. She scrolls past the picture of a porcelain cat in a waitress uniform and freezes. Harry’s eyes widen and he quickly looks away from her phone. Because that was a full frontal nude.

“Oops,” Peyton giggles, putting her phone away with a coy bat of her eyelashes. “I guess that was the last one.”

 _Thank god_ , Harry thinks, smiling at her politely until she leans forward, pushing out her cleavage as she places a hand on Harry’s and grins at him naughtily.

“It’s not like you won’t be seeing everything later anyway.”

Harry chokes on his next breath and pulls his hand from her grasp to cover his mouth.

“Are you okay?” She asks, concerned as Harry coughs.

“Yeah,” he answers as a reflex before changing his mind and shaking his head. “Actually, I don’t think I am.”

There’s a waiter passing by just then and Harry desperately grabs for his attention. “Can we get the check?”

Harry waits impatiently for their waiter to bring the check and immediately hands over his credit card, he’d really rather not have to wait.

Peyton doesn’t seem to understand what’s happening, she’s still looking like she plans on taking Harry home with her and unwrapping him like a Christmas present.

“I’m terribly sorry to end things early like this,” Harry says, as the receipt comes and Harry signs it with a flourish. “I’m just suddenly feeling really ill. I hope you had a lovely evening.”

He gathers Peyton’s hand in his and kisses her knuckles to soften the blow as she tries to protest.

“But…”

“I’m sorry,” Harry interrupts again before rushing out of the restaurant.

“Call me!” Peyton calls before he can get out the door.

Somehow, Harry really doubts that’s going to happen.

 

@}------

 

His next date, with Christian Gray, goes much more smoothly. He’s nice, polite, and handsome, if a little boring.

The date takes a turn for the worst when he tries to order for Harry.

“I don’t eat shellfish,” Harry tells him.

“It’s delicious, trust me. You’ll thank me later,” Christian smiles, handing their menus to the waiter.

Harry grabs his back, displeasure clear on his face. “I think it might be difficult to thank you when my throat swells shut, you knob. Who orders for someone without asking about their allergies?”

Christian sits silent, fuming, as Harry looks over the menu.

“I’ll have the flounder plate and a chicken caesar salad,” Harry tells the waiter, handing over the menu again and stressing “ _to go_.”

“To go?” Christian sputters, offended at the implication that _Harry_ plans to walk out on _him_.

“You didn’t really think I’d stay after you tried to kill me, did you?” Harry asks, brow raised in disbelief.

“It was an honest mistake,” Christian argues even as he takes the napkin from his lap and places it on the table.

“Yes, it was the honest mistake of a pompous arsehole with control issues,” Harry agrees.

“Well,” Christian huffs as he stands. “This was a waste of time.”

“The feeling is entirely mutual,” Harry assures him with a sarcastic smile.

He’s feeling pretty pleased with himself when his food comes. He pays and takes the bag, carrying home his and Niall’s dinner. Unlike some people, Harry is aware of Niall’s allergies, so he feels confident taking his friend a meal home.

His timing is excellent. Niall is just rummaging in the fridge for something to eat when Harry gets home.

“You’re early,” Niall chirps as Harry enters the kitchen. “That’s not good.”

“You know,” Harry muses, placing the bag holding their meals on the table and crossing the kitchen to grab them some drinks from the fridge. “I was willing to ignore the similarities between my date’s name and a certain fictional erotic anti-hero, but it turns out, the similarities don’t end there.”

“Oh no,” Niall laughs, sitting down next to Harry at the table. “He Christian Grey’d you?”

“He tried to order for me. Shellfish,” Harry answers dragging their food out of the bag and passing Niall his.

“You’re allergic to shellfish,” Niall states like it’s a common fact. _Harry Styles is allergic to shellfish, everyone knows this._ In reality, very few people know it.

“Thank you!” Harry says. It doesn’t mean anything that Niall knows. Niall is his cook for goodness sake, it’s his job to know. But it still makes Harry’s chest warm. “And he got all pissy when I called him out on it. So, I got some dinner for you and me, he walked out, and here we are.”

“Sweet,” Niall cheers, digging into his fish while Harry devours his salad.

“You know, if you’d stayed, I bet he would have slid you a contract at the end of the meal,” Niall jokes.

“I don’t fuck douches,” Harry deadpans. “It’s a hard limit.”

Niall cackles and Harry joins him, giggling happily into his leafy greens.

Why can’t his dates be like this?

 

@}------

 

Harry has a long run of terrible first dates. None ever making it to date number two. And as horrible as they all are, he’s somehow still not ready to give up. Harry thinks it’s probably the fact that after each date, he comes home and talks with Niall about everything that happened, laughing and making jokes together, keeping the disappointment at bay by making light of it. Harry has more fun _after_ the dates than he does while he’s on them. He guesses he just doesn’t want to give that up.

The arrival of Trevor Carter changes everything.

Trevor actually makes it to date two, proving himself to be smart and thoughtful. He’s not funny like Niall, but he has a dry wit that Harry finds he enjoys.

When Harry comes home after their first date, not early for once, Niall is waiting up for him on the couch, one of Harry’s fancy imported beers in his hand.

“Good date?” He asks, though Harry’s sure he knows the answer.

“Yeah,” Harry answers quietly, cautiously, like he’s afraid to jinx it, as he sits down next to Niall on the couch.

Niall lifts his arm, inviting Harry to tuck himself under it. Harry accepts the invitation, pressing into Niall’s side and laying his head on his best friend’s shoulder. They watch television in silence, Niall not probing for details and Harry not offering any. It’s weird. But neither of them is willing to question why that is.

 

@}------

 

At the end of date three, Trevor invites Harry back to his place. Harry knows what that means, what’s expected of him and the thought of being intimate with someone after so long frightens him.

Harry makes a lame excuse about having to get up early so he’d better not this time, _but soon_ , he promises. He’s not sure it’s a promise he can keep. Trevor agrees to wait, sweetly kissing Harry goodbye at his door and Harry thinks, hopes, that Trevor understands.

Niall seems surprised to see Harry back at all and for some reason that just makes a big leaden rock form in Harry’s gut. Niall seems happy to see him though, pulling him down into a cuddle on the couch and giving Harry control of the remote, seeming content just to be spending time together. By time Harry goes to bed, the rock in his gut has shrunk to the size of a pebble.

But it’s still there. Sitting. Waiting.

 

 @}------

 

After their fifth date, Trevor asks Harry to be his boyfriend. They still haven’t had sex but the fact that Trevor wants to be with him despite that, makes Harry certain that he should say yes. So he does. And just like that, after years of having no one, Harry Styles has a boyfriend.

It’s nice, having someone to kiss and hold hands with. He likes it. He’s missed it.

He doesn’t even mind that much when Trevor starts nudging at his resolve to not have sex yet. He’s gentle about it, he’ll bring it up but let it go just as easily when Harry informs him that he’s not ready. He’s patient that way, but he’s also persistent in his asking.

Harry doesn’t know what he should do, so he turns to Niall.

“Harry, I don’t care how many times he lets you say no,” Niall tells him seriously, “the fact that he keeps asking is a bad sign. He’s pressuring you.”

“I don’t know, it doesn’t really feel that way,” Harry says, watching Niall chop vegetables for their dinner. Trevor is coming and Harry’s both excited and terrified to have his boyfriend meeting his best friend.

“The fact that you even need to ask me about it is all the proof you need, Harry,” Niall argues, keeping a careful eye on what he’s doing. “He’s got you thinking about it, considering it. That’s what he wants.”

“Let’s just drop it, okay?” Harry suggests quietly, worried that he’s just inadvertently turned Niall against Trevor.

Niall lets it go easily enough. But only because he has to concentrate on what he’s doing.

 

@}------

 

Dinner is awkward.

Niall smiles in all the right places but Harry can tell it’s forced.

Trevor doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he simply ignores it.

Harry is relieved when it’s over. He kisses Trevor goodbye at the door like usual but doesn’t join Niall on the couch for an evening cuddle like he normally would. He doesn’t say anything, gives no indication of where he’s going but he ends up downstairs in his studio.It’s finished now and Harry loves it. He needs the peace it brings him just now because he’s a little angry at Niall for the awkwardness at dinner. He could have made things easier on Trevor instead of giving one-word answers all night, making the conversation stiff and mostly one-sided. Harry’s not sure what to do if the two of them can’t get along.

 

“Harry?” Niall calls gingerly from the doorway. He hasn’t been in the studio yet and he’s hesitant to invade this space that’s so personal to Harry.

 

“I’m here,” Harry answers, though he kind of feels like staying silent until Niall goes away.

 

“You okay?” Niall asks, pushing through the door and moving to sit next to Harry on the leather couch at the edge of the room.

 

Harry sighs, wanting to melt into Niall’s side as usual but not letting himself. “I don’t know.”

 

“Look, I know I was a bit of a prick tonight,” Niall offers, pressing closer to Harry, hoping to make him lose his resolve on the ‘no cuddles’ rule he’s trying to maintain. “Maybe I should have given Trevor more of a chance. Maybe I still should.”

 

Harry starts to weaken, as Niall undoubtedly expected, leaning closer, letting his weight rest against Niall’s side.

 

“In all honesty, I probably won’t though,” Niall continues, causing Harry to pull back again.

 

“Why not?”

 

“He’s pressuring you to have sex with him, Harry. He’s obviously not good enough for you,” Niall says.

 

“Is that the only reason?” Harry questions, dodging Niall’s hands when he reaches for him.

 

“Isn’t that reason enough?” Niall answers a question with a question. Of course, his question is the better one. “He’s preying on you, Harry, because he knows you’ll eventually give in.”

 

Nevermind the fact that Niall thinks him so weak that he can’t even make his own decisions, he’s ruining the best relationship Harry’s had in ages.

 

“Don’t do this, Niall,” Harry pleads. “I think Trevor really likes me. Don’t ruin it.”

 

Niall scoffs. He’s been angry the whole time they were talking about Trevor but now his anger is directed at Harry.

 

“Do you even hear yourself? What about you, Harry? Do you like _him_?”

 

“I like him,” Harry answers petulantly but there’s a ring of falseness to it. Not like it’s a lie, but maybe a half-truth.

 

Suddenly, Niall thinks he understands what’s going on.

 

“Does he feel like your soulmate?” He asks gently, all traces of anger vanishing when Harry turns to him with sad eyes.

Harry shakes his head ruefully. “No. He’s not my soulmate.”

 

He gives in at last, falling into Niall’s side and accepting the comfort he offers.

 

“We’ll find them, Harry,” Niall promises, lips brushing against the crown of Harry’s head. “You don’t have to settle for someone who can’t love you the way you deserve.”

 

“I don’t know if we will find them,” Harry admits, raising his wrist so that Niall can clearly see the mark. Four more petals are missing. Only four remain. Harry is running out of time.

 

@}------

 

Harry breaks up with Trevor.

 

Trevor doesn’t take it well, calling Harry a prude and a waste of his time. Trevor is basically a Christian Gray with more social graces until he doesn’t get what he wants. Harry is glad that Niall saw him for what he truly was when Harry was too blinded by fear and loneliness to see clearly.

 

Niall tries to get Harry back out on the dating scene but Harry refuses. He kind of thinks he might have an idea of who his soulmate could be. He doesn’t do anything about it because he’s terrified of being wrong.

 

So, instead of dating, and seeking out a soulmate he’s not going to find, he spends his time with Niall in the studio.

 

Now that he’s seen it, Niall doesn’t want to be anywhere else. Harry’s studio is his version of heaven, guitars in every corner, a piano in the recording booth.

 

Harry’s only too happy to share his sanctuary.

 

It’s good for a while.

 

Until it isn’t.

 

@}------

 

In mid-September, Niall gets a call in the middle of the night. His father’s had a heart attack. He really hates the idea of leaving Harry when he needs Niall the most, but it’s his dad.

 

When he tells Harry, he’s completely understanding.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Harry agrees. “Go. Take care of your father.”

 

“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” Niall tells Harry worriedly.

 

“I understand.”

 

Harry really does understand. If it were his own parents, if he could have had a few more days, moments’ even, he would have taken them. And Niall’s father could be fine in the long run. So, Niall packs up all of his belongings and hugs Harry tightly as they say goodbye at the airport, Niall giving one last squeeze to Harry’s shoulders before disappearing onto a plane bound for Dublin, Ireland.

 

Harry’s heart aches and he wants to rush onto the plane and drag Niall back off of it. That, he thinks, is the biggest clue that makes him think he’s right. Niall is his soulmate.

 

And Harry’s just lost him.

 

@}------

 

Harry wallows. He sits, lonely, on his couch and stare at the mark that started it all. He wants to claw it off. He can’t wait until the last few petals disappear so that he doesn’t have to think about it anymore. His chance will have passed, and he can begin the slow process of moving on.

 

About three weeks after Niall’s departure, there’s a knock at Harry’s door. Harry’s head shoots up from staring, unseeing, at the television screen and he stares at the door instead, wide-eyed and hopeful. The second knock spurs him into motion and he practically runs for the door.

 

He closes his eyes and says a quick, silent prayer that it’s Niall before opening the door a crack and peering outside.

 

It’s not Niall. Heather stands there, looking as beautiful as ever and smiling at Harry just like he used to. It’s a smile he almost fell in love with. It means nothing to him now.

 

“Heather? What are you doing here?” Harry asks, only opening the door another crack as he waits for an answer.

 

“Apologizing,” she says, taking step closer, as though hoping for entrance into Harry’s home. “I know I hurt you. You deserved so much better back then and I think I’m finally ready to give you what you need. If you’ll still have me.”

 

Harry wants to tell her to get lost, she’s a part of his past that should stay in the past, but he looks down at his wrist, bearing a rose with four sad little petals. He thinks about Niall, a whole ocean away. Niall who hasn’t even called or written since he left. He thinks about what he had and let get away from him, and then he looks up at Heather… and opens the door, inviting her in.

  
@}------

 

Niall is tending to his father while his mother cooks them dinner, he feels like it should be the other way around, when his phone rings. His heart races think it could be Harry. There’s no reason it _should_ be Harry but it could be. A glance at the caller ID and he’s frowning in disappointment. Wrong Styles.

 

“Hello, Gemma,” Niall answers.

 

“Niall, hi,” Gemma greets. “How’s your father?”

 

“Good. He’s a tough old man,” Niall says knowing that his dad can hear.

 

His dad huffs but doesn’t react otherwise.

 

“Good. That’s good.”

 

“What’s up?” Niall asks when Gemma falls silent.

 

“I need your help again, if you’re able,” she hedges.

 

“Yeah, my da’s doing good. I should be able to travel in a day or two,” Niall agrees. “What’s going on?”

 

“I’m going to send you a link. I need you to check it out and tell me how you think we should proceed.”

 

“Okay,” Niall says and checks his messages for a link. It comes a second later. He presses it and is redirected to an Instagram picture of Harry leaning in to take a selfie with a beautiful woman. He’s wearing a smile, bland but polite, and Niall is confused as to what he’s looking at until he reads the caption.

 

 _$_ _The one that got away. Won’t make that mistake twice._ _$_

 

“Is this Heather?” Niall asks, fire burning behind his eyes and flushing through his veins.

 

“Yes,” Gemma spits, obviously not happy to hear the name.

 

“What’s he doing with her?” Niall asks, hoping the blatant envy in his voice doesn’t translate over the phone.

 

“Giving up,” Gemma answers.

 

“I’ll be on the first flight out,” Niall states before hanging up on Harry’s sister. He can’t let Harry make this mistake. He rushes to his room and packs his things, barely giving his parents any kind of explanation. The gleam in his mother’s eye’s when he kisses her on the cheek on his way out tells him that she may have an idea anyway.

@}------

 

Harry’s arm has been burning all day. He knows what that means and it terrifies him. He’d watched his wrist all morning, then all afternoon. Now, it’s almost sunset but the last petals have yet to fade into oblivion.The wait is killing him.

 

He decides to spend the last few hours of the day on the roof. Watching the sun set on his last chance at love seems like a poetic ending to his turbulent history with romance. There’s a nice little garden on the roof of Harry’s building that hasn’t yet been put to rest by the growing cold as fall stretches out over the city. He sits on a bench someone thought to add and waits out the darkness.

 

The burning grows on his skin with each passing minute and he knows it’s close. The last rays of sun dancing over the horizon.

 

“Harry!” Niall calls, banging through the roof access door.

 

“Niall?” Harry turns, confused and relieved and heartsore but also happy to see his beloved friend.So happy. “What are you doing here?”

 

Niall races across the roof, hurrying to have Harry in his arms again. Burying his face in Harry’s neck when he achieves his goal. “Don’t go back to her.”

 

“What? Who?” Harry asks pulling back from Niall’s embrace.

 

“Heather,” Niall answers, prepared for once to lay everything out on the table. “Gemma told me all about her. She’ll just use you again. Don’t go back to her.”

 

“I’m not,” Harry tells him. “She tried but I’m not _that_ desperate.”

 

“Oh, thank god,” Niall breathes, tugging Harry back in and squeezing him tight.

 

“Why does it matter?” Harry asks bitterly, pulling completely out of Niall’s arms and backing up a step, then another. “Why do you care?”

 

“Because I love you,” Niall says, standing before Harry emotionally bare. “I’m your soulmate, Harry. It’s me.”

 

Harry shakes his head as his arm throbs at his side. He doesn’t dare hope too fervently.

“How do you know?”

 

“I know because I couldn’t stand the sight of you with your ex. I know because of the way I felt when you brought Trevor home to meet me. I know because I don’t think anyone could ever love someone the way that I love you.”

 

Harry sniffs from where he’s standing, still a few steps away. He wants to believe, he really does.

 

So, for once in his life, he lets himself.

 

The wind picks up, blowing the dead leaves that have already fallen in the face of autumn, blowing Harry’s hair , blowing petals as they rise from Harry’s wrist and glow in the evening light until they brush against Niall’s wrist. It’s like a seed has been planted, a flower blossoming in their place, inked forever into his skin.

 

“You really are my soulmate,” Harry whispers, in awe of the sight of Niall’s new mark.

 

“I am,” Niall declares once more, reaching out for Harry’s hand. Harry lets him take it, entwining their fingers, both marks glowing as Niall’s bring’s Harry’s back to life.

 

“Looks like we’ll get our happily ever after,” Harry smiles as his _soulmate_ , brilliant and joyous.

  
“ _Guaranteed_ ,” Niall agrees, finally pulling Harry into the kiss he’s been waiting for them to share for ages.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Narry was actually my first ship. I hope I still do it justice. :)


End file.
